Reading Beyond The Subtext
by Nothing But Bones
Summary: Set shortly after the Season 1 episode 'The Girl In The Fridge.' Brennan is feeling raw after her former Professor's betrayal, and Booth bears the brunt of her insecurities.


The sun was beating down on the Jeffersonian Institute and the intense heat was already palpable, even though it was barely past nine in the morning. Booth was situated in his SUV with the radio blaring, drumming his hands absent-mindedly on the steering wheel as he waited for his partner to grace him with her presence. His eyes lingered idly on the exit as he watched numerous technicians come and go, but, for once, it was easy to swallow his impatience. Bones was only ten minutes late – she'd probably lost track of time examining the remains that they'd recovered yesterday afternoon. He was tempted to call her cell phone and hurry her along, but Bones was never receptive to being rushed and, with a light breeze billowing through his open window and his fitted black pants absorbing the warmth of the sun through the windscreen, Booth was happy to evade the harsh reality of his day job for a little while longer. He loved the summer; he had already discarded his suit jacket and slung it over the back seat, and now he loosened the buttons on the cuffs of his well-pressed shirt, rolling the sleeves up to expose his lightly tanned forearms. He was making a slightly off-key endeavour to whistle along with the radio when Brennan finally emerged, and Booth found his mouth growing slack at the sight of her.

"Jesus Christ, Bones," he muttered under his breath, his sunglasses thankfully obscuring his roving eyes. He sent an apologetic glance towards the Heavens for his involuntary outburst, but he figured the Man Upstairs would understand. Temperance Brennan had clearly dressed in deference to the warm weather. Gone was the conservative attire that she usually donned; there was no shapeless blue lab coat, starched suit or no-nonsense ponytail. Bones was wearing ridiculously well-fitting khaki pants, and the material came to an abrupt halt slightly below her knees. Her shoes, as always, were sensible, but they did nothing to detract from the shapely outline of lower legs – her calves were well defined, every muscle was perfectly toned and the skin that resided there looked invitingly smooth. Her simple turquoise tank top revealed a lot more than Booth was accustomed to seeing. It clung to her in all the right places; the womanly flare of her hips gave way to a flat stomach, and her sculpted arms were bare and dotted with beauty spots. Bones' skin was pristine, almost porcelain in colour, and Booth was afforded a modest glimpse of her generous cleavage as she opened the passenger side door and gracefully situated herself next to him.

He greeted her with a warm grin, and she glanced at him sideways before offering a soft smile in return, and it was then that Booth realised, no matter how exquisite Temperance Brennan's figure may be, it would always pale in comparison to her face. She was wearing her hair down, the loose curls framing her cheeks to stunning effect, and her luminescent irises were glinting in the sunlight, making her steady gaze even more captivating than usual. God, she was beautiful, and Booth suddenly felt compelled to acknowledge that fact out loud.

"You look nice today." It was the understatement of the century, and Booth swallowed audibly, starting the car and manoeuvring his way through the traffic, which had thankfully begun to thin now that most people were situated in their offices and ready to begin the working day.

Bones seemed taken aback for a moment, but then her face settled into what Booth could only describe as a scowl. She tutted - loudly, rolled those mesmerising eyes, and sighed.

"What?" Booth couldn't help but laugh in disbelief. "Only you could construe a compliment as an insult, Bones."

Brennan regarded her partner coldly, her eyes flashing with anger. "You know, Booth, you may try to mask your baser instincts beneath the guise of being a sensitive, caring and oh-so-progressive 'modern man,' but you're really just a Neanderthal."

"Excuse me?" Booth resisted the urge to slam on the brakes, and instead opted to stare at his partner in faintly veiled outrage. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Brennan appeared decidedly less attractive now that her jaw line had clenched and her brow was furrowed in barely suppressed fury. "You see me on a daily basis in a variety of contexts, but you only ever deign to compliment me on my appearance when I'm displaying more flesh than you're accustomed to seeing. Before the benefit that Goodman organised, for example. Which would suggest that you perceive me as a sexual object whose worth is determined by how much cleavage I'm displaying on any given day."

Booth felt his cheeks begin to redden, in both embarrassment and anger. Bones was right, he had given her a surreptitious once-over on many occasions, but he was only human, after all. He was well aware that Temperance Brennan had qualities that transcended her physical appearance; she was the most awe-inspiring woman he had ever encountered and there wasn't a single part of the package that didn't appeal to him - even when she was being ridiculously argumentative. Still, he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of saying that out loud.

"That's a steaming heap of bullshit, Bones. You know, I really struggle to understand what the hell is going on in that head of yours, sometimes. Some of my girlfriends have sulked for weeks because I didn't notice that they'd had a freakin' hair cut! I tell you that you look nice, and you bite my head off! It was a simple observation, Bones, that's all. It doesn't mean that I spend every waking moment fantasising about… well, you know…" Booth cleared his throat, willing himself not to envisage the scenario he had just stopped short of describing. "But if you want to twist it into something more sinister and depict me as some kind of sex-obsessed pervert, then fine. I just hope you realise how _irrational_ you're being."

Brennan was spitting venom now, and her hair was bouncing with the force behind her furious gestures. "Oh, so you think I'm being irrational in assuming that men find me attractive?"

Booth shook his head violently. "No, Bones, you're just twisting my words again. I'm sure there are plenty of men who find you attractive." He neglected to mention that he was one of them, "But I think you're being just a tiny bit arrogant if you think that every heterosexual male who isn't crippled or impotent wants to go at it with you."

Bones regarded him warily. "I can have my choice of men, Booth, believe me. I am far more selective about whom I choose to copulate with than most women, and if I want somebody in particular, I invariably get them. I do, however, try to pick men who I consider myself to have some kind of an affinity with, someone who might be equally as interested in what comes out of my mouth as what I can do with it in the bedroom."

"Whoah, Bones, too much information!" Booth nearly ran a red traffic light, and prayed that his partner hadn't noticed. He couldn't help but be intrigued by her comments, though. "So what are you saying? That men use you for sex, and if you're lucky, you get a bit of witty repartee on the side? Because somehow I always imagined you being a willing participant." Booth cringed, biting the inside of his cheek. "Not that I have imagined you… well, you know what I mean."

Brennan was feeling gracious and chose to overlook her partner's faux pas. "No, I'm saying that men only seek to establish a relationship with me if physical gratification is high on the agenda, otherwise they inevitably become jealous of my accomplishments. It doesn't matter how well-established they are in their own fields, they still feel the need to denigrate my achievements. They seem to think that being mindlessly agreeable is an attractive quality in a mate."

"Yeah, that whole being agreeable thing… it's not one of your strong suits, Bones, but come on, you've got a lot more to offer than your looks," Booth assured his partner, sending one of his patented charm smiles in her direction.

"That may be true in a professional capacity, but in a personal one… it's been incredibly difficult to find a man who isn't intimidated by my intellect. Of course, they may see me as a formidable conquest at first, but once the novelty wears off…" She trailed off; not wanting to admit that what she essentially engaged in with her myriad of partners was meaningless, inconsequential fucking.

Booth caught the hint of despair in Brennan's tone, and his chest constricted in empathy. For all of her arrogance and bravado, at that moment Temperance Brennan's insecurity was painfully apparent. "That's sad, Bones. It really is. You deserve so much better than that."

"It's not like I'm the victim in all of this, Booth. Like you said, I'm a willing participant." Brennan's attention was suddenly focused on the scenery rushing past her window; she couldn't bring herself to look Booth in the eye anymore. "It works well for everybody concerned. I'm not about to change to accommodate anybody else's needs; I don't want someone else trying to manipulate my emotions and govern who I am. I have biological urges, I find someone to satisfy them, and then I move on. I'm not going to be anybody's plaything, Booth."

Something clicked all of a sudden, and Booth's grip on the steering wheel tightened accordingly. Brennan had always been cynical towards relationships, but it didn't take a genius to figure out who was accountable for this rare moment of introspection. That supercilious prick, Michael Stries, had known from the outset that Bones would be acting as an expert witness for opposing counsel at an upcoming murder trial. He had crawled out of the woodwork to coax her into revealing her plan of attack; played on her vulnerabilities, highlighted her weaknesses, and attempted to decimate her character in front of an entire courtroom. Brennan had pretended to take it all in her stride, but Booth had seen the raw hurt emanating from his partner's eyes when the one man who was supposed to have unfailing respect for her took it upon himself to undermine her credibility in front of a sizeable audience. Booth had barely managed to suppress the urge to murder the duplicitous bastard.

"Stires really got to you, didn't he, Bones?"

Seeing his partner stiffen, Booth reached out to gently touch her forearm.

"Look, the guy was a first rate asshole who was pissed off because you managed to accomplish twice as much as him in half the time frame. You were supposed to be his protégé, and he couldn't cope with you coming full circle to kick his sorry ass. What he did to you was unforgivable, Bones, and I can understand why you're hurting, but you wiped the floor with him. We won. That's what counts."

Brennan shook her head, and Booth felt a lump rising in his throat when he saw her discreetly raise her hand to swipe at an errant tear. "No, Booth. I gave him all the ammunition he needed to mount a defence. It never occurred to me that he had an ulterior motive, even when I found out who he was working for. I was an idiot."

"Bones, you have a history with the guy. Hell, he was probably your role model at some point, right? Nobody's going to blame you for trusting him."

"I did more than trust him, Booth," Brennan confessed quietly, "I let him see how much that case was affecting me. I curled up in his arms and told him I couldn't get that girl's face out of my head. He _knew _that," Brennan bit her lip, trying to control her wavering tone, "And then he got up in front of everyone and told them I didn't care."

Booth tried to conceal his shock at that particular revelation, even as his heart wrenched with compassion. Bones was always harping on about objectivity, but Booth had never doubted his partner's ability to empathise with their victims, even when she went out of her way to appear ambivalent. He wasn't surprised that their cases haunted her after-hours, but hearing her admit it made his stomach clench reflexively. The knowledge that she had sought solace in Stires' arms, only for him to take advantage of her vulnerability, made the ache in his gut even worse.

"Hey. You care, Bones. Every second of every day. I know that."

"You do?" Brennan ventured, regarding him hopefully.

"Of course I do!" he exclaimed, his tone brimming with conviction. "People like Stires, they see what they have to see in order to collect their court fee, and then they move on, but you… you'd never sell your soul like that, Bones, because you care about the _truth. _It's not about ego, it's not about preserving your reputation, it's about _justice_, and I know you'd fight tooth and nail for every single one of those victims; that you'd do whatever it takes to get their story heard. You might pretend that all you see is the bones, Temperance, but I know it goes so much deeper than that."

Brennan stared at him for a moment, her eyes shining with some inexplicable emotion, and then quietly cleared her throat. "Thank you, Booth."

"Hey, I call it as I see it," he countered light-heartedly, nudging his partner companionably with his elbow.

"I was naïve to think that Michael was one of the few people who genuinely liked me, that we actually had some tenuous kind of a connection," Brennan muttered, her lips quirking scornfully, "But do you know what the worse thing was? Even after everything we went through that day, he still had the nerve to approach me afterwards and act like what he'd done was completely negligible. He really thought that I was easy enough to let him climb back under my sheets so he could 'make it up to me.' As if I could just swallow my pride and - "

"OK, Bones, there's no need to elaborate. He was a prick in every sense of the word, I get it." Booth resisted the urge to start grinding his teeth. He knew what Bones was thinking - that he, too, had betrayed her, he had disclosed the harrowing story of her past to the prosecuting attorney, who had in turn used it against her on the witness stand, forcing her stoic resolve to crumble so she would break down and become more accessible to the jury in her anguish.

"Bones, I hope you don't think that I'm anything like that bastard, OK? Because the last thing I'd ever want to do is hurt you. What I did that day, it was for the greater good. For Maggie. You get that, right?"

Brennan nodded, still transfixed by the scenery. "We've had this discussion already, Booth. It's done. Forget about it."

"But I don't want you to think that I have some kind of hidden agenda, Bones. I'm not like Stires, I'm not about mind games and fucking with people's heads, and I'm not about getting people to trust me and then throwing it back in their faces. I know I left you feeling pretty exposed up there, but it was the only way to call Stires on his bullshit. I just… I wanted that jury to see the real you, you know? The woman underneath that mask of professionalism."

"Booth, I get it. It's fine."

Brennan's tone was still markedly clipped, and Booth regarded her warily.

"Look, Bones, I don't expect anything from you beyond your expertise, but I'd like to think that we can at least be good friends."

"At least? So what you're really hoping is that we can be friends with benefits?" Brennan's voice was bitter, her body language cold.

"Jeez, will you cut me a break here?" Booth was struggling to keep his eyes on the road; they kept roving to his partner, trying to gauge where the hell her hostility was coming from. "Temperance, I'm sure a mole could dig its way above ground and determine that yes, you're a beautiful woman. I'm not going to argue with you if you're telling me that guys look at you and they like what they see. I'm not blind. And I'm not a liar. But I'm with you everyday, Bones - the way you look is a pre-given. But what I can never be sure of is what that Einstein-sized brain of yours is going to surprise me with next." Booth smiled softly, shaking his head. "It's your intelligence that impresses me, Bones, more than anything else. When I look at you, I don't see a prime piece of meat that's worth pounding, I see the modern manifestation of Wonder Woman. And every day I wonder how the hell I got so lucky as to be partnered with you."

"Shut up, Booth. Sycophancy doesn't suit you." For all her accomplishments, Brennan wasn't used to being praised. Nobody had ever said anything like that to her before, and she found herself fighting back tears, truly touched. People expected her to succeed, so there was no fanfare when she fulfilled their objectives and satisfied their criteria, they just upped the ante when the next project came around and expected her to work miracles time and time again.

Booth realised that he had inadvertently touched a nerve, but he knew that Brennan needed to hear what he was about to say, so he ploughed ahead with little regard for the consequences. "OK, Bones, point taken. I just wanted to let you know that, for what it's worth, not only do you have my utmost respect, but I like you, OK? Just the way you are."

All of a sudden, Brennan whirled around to face him, and her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. "Oh come on, Booth, you don't _like_ me. You tolerate me. I drive you crazy, remember? I can't say anything without pissing off everyone around me! Your words, incidentally, not mine. We disagree about everything; you think I'm an elitist snob who doesn't have the capacity for human interaction. You probably would have petitioned to be reassigned months ago if I didn't provide you with your daily dose of eye candy."

"Is that really what you think?" Booth was aghast, and Brennan regarded him with alarm when he pulled over to the side of the road, turning off the engine to regard her intently. "Bones, listen to me for a minute, will you? I know we argue, but it's nice to be challenged by someone with a fresh perspective. You're not always going to get me to reconsider my position, but when you do, I know I've made the right decision. And yeah, sometimes you do drive me crazy, but I can live with that, because I know that you're going to teach me something new and amazing every day."

Booth found himself reaching out to wipe away a tear from Brennan's cheek, and he let it linger on his thumb, proffering it for her inspection. "I don't think you're emotionally stunted. I think you're the most complex person I've ever met, and you're a constant surprise, so if you think you can group me amongst those people who find you tedious or monotonous, then you're very much mistaken. You have no idea how refreshing it is to spend my time with someone who says exactly what they mean, even if I don't always understand what the hell it is you're on about. I think we make a great team, don't you?"

Brennan could see the sincerity shining in Booth's eyes, and for the first time since she could remember, she found herself blushing. She was embarrassed that she had revealed this much of herself to him, that she had actually allowed him to see her cry, however fleetingly. She wasn't the kind of woman who needed other people's approval to obtain a sense of self worth, and she was generally unaffected by dislike – even when virtual strangers seemed to develop an aversion to her, she remained unfazed. But there were a few select individuals who she admired and liked enough to entertain their opinions, and those people wielded the capacity to break down her carefully constructed barriers and really affect her. She realised then that, somewhere along the line, Seeley Booth had become one of them. And that thought terrified her.

"We should go." Brennan gestured to the open expanse of road ahead of them, but Booth made no attempt to re-start the engine. The intensity of his gaze was unnerving her and she swallowed audibly, evading his eyes.

"You know what, Bones? You shouldn't be giving all of those assholes what they clearly don't deserve. I know you don't believe it right now, but there are people out there who'll take the rough with the smooth, and appreciate you for who you really are."

"Like you?"

Booth hesitated, trying to read his partner's expression. Was she mocking him? That was possibly the most loaded question he'd ever been asked, but hey, what the hell. "Yeah, Bones. Like me."

"Because you would still relish working with me, right? Even if I was an ageing, snaggle-toothed hag who weighed two hundred pounds?"

"You got it."

"Liar." Brennan laughed for the first time that morning; it was an all-too-rare occurrence, and Booth had grown to love the sound to such an extent that his answering grin was almost automatic.

"You should know by now that I'm a man of great integrity, Bones. I know that it's what's in here that matters." He tapped her gently on the top of her head and she rolled her eyes indulgently. "And of course, what's in here." Booth's hand then moved downwards and came to rest over her heart, which suddenly began to pound at a far more erratic pace. Though the majority of his palm was positioned over the fabric of her tank top, the tips of his fingers were brushing against her bare skin, and Brennan fought the urge to shiver in response. She had barely begun to adjust to the pleasurable sensation when Booth's hand repositioned itself again, this time resting against the tip of her chin.

"So what do you say we try this again?" Booth smiled, seeing his partner's puzzlement, and tilted her face upwards so they were eye-to-eye. "You're lookin' pretty good today, Bones."

Brennan grinned indulgently. "Thank you, Booth. It's nice of you to notice." She hesitated, a mischievous twinkle appearing in her eyes. "So are you."

Booth looked at her in surprise for a moment and then promptly withdrew his hand, feigning anger. He could feel Brennan looking at him, her face the epitome of confusion, as he turned on the ignition and inched the SUV back onto the highway.

There was silence for a moment but, as he had anticipated, it didn't take Brennan long to break it.

"Booth, I don't understand. What did I say?"

"It's just the double standards, Bones, you know? Just because I rolled my sleeves up and undid a few buttons, you think you can sit there and OGLE me? I'm not just some guy with a suit and a gun, you know, I - "

"Booth! OK, OK, I get the picture." Brennan was finally privy to the joke, and burst into laughter when Booth snorted with the effort of repressing a snigger. "I was being… unreasonable. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologise, Bones." Booth regarded her out of the corner of his eye, smiling softly. "Just promise that you'll call me if your nutty professor ever happens to drop by again. Because you never know, I might re-consider my position about letting you have a gun."

Brennan regarded him for a moment; thankful that Booth's eyes were now trained intently on the road, because she knew it would have been difficult to disguise the surge of affection she was feeling for him at that particular moment in time. She watched as his hand came to rest against the gearshift and impulsively, she reached out, lacing her fingers through his own.

"Thank you for listening, Booth."

"That's what friends are for, right?" He gave her his customary grin and she tried to ignore the nervous fluttering in her stomach when he brushed his thumb against the underside of her palm, lightly squeezing her hand before depositing it gently back into her lap. She regarded him with a wry half-smile, realising the truth in his words.

"Right."


End file.
